WHO: !!!!!!!!!!!
WHAT: !!!!!!!!!!!
WHERE: !!!!!!!!!!
WHEN: !!!!!!!!!!

( !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! )

She'd done it. Bianca wasn't even going to apologize for the thought; she'd done it. These past few weeks leading up to the wedding had been so nerve-wracking, worse than any training she'd gone through, more terrifying than any mission she'd been on, worse than...she really thought that she was not going to make it down the aisle. The guilt and the fear had nearly paralyzed her, but putting on her wedding dress, seeing her closest friends dressed up and looking so very happy for her, a last minute owl from Bertram that made things all seem right.

Well, she practically ran down the aisle after that!

The reception had turned out beautifully, and she really, really had to thank her mother for making her have such an event. All the planning leading up to it had been stressful, but it had made her stronger, and Bianca's life depending on being able to push through anything life threw at her. Her hair was down and out of the twist it had been forced into this morning; if she was going to dance and party, she was surely going to have her hair flying about.

A particuarly happy tune came on and she grabbed Amissa's hand, bouncing happily with the little girl who was now officially her step-daughter. The thought thrilled her, and Bianca caught Bertram's eye with a big grin.

Everything was different. Different faces, different names, different house, different friends. Sometimes Rachel questioned if it had been such a good decision to come back here, before remembering three very young faces that needed her just a bit more than she needed to be selfish. Their family might have been pieced together, but seeing Amissa with Gabriel, how Michael was with her—really, everything about Benjamin, told her if they'd done one thing, it was raise them well. Even lovingly, one might say, which just about struck her dumb. Rachel knew she had to be here, but it still felt like she was some kind of intruder, and it was not a feeling she cared for. It was a feeling she was reminded of every time she made to pass by the master wing, as she was doing just now. The double-doors at the end of the hallway at once beckoned to her and repelled her. Since leaving St. Mungo's, Rachel had been in the room once, to collect her clothes. But the idea of staying there, in a place of such intimacy, physical and otherwise, was unpalatable? Macabre. Nerve-wracking. Certainly nothing that would appease Rachel.

But she found herself walking toward them, regardless. As far as she knew, it had been empty since… before, and the urge to look at this setting of an unremembered life was irrepressible. A glance at the grandfather clock told her she had time before anyone else was due home. Unable to deny the tug toward the room any longer, she slipped through the ominous double doors.

( She started with the wardrobe, tapping on the back, digging through pockets, )

"Are you feeling up to visitors?"

The question startled her, drawing Rachel out of her pensive reverie. Time was still getting away from her, so she was unsure how long she had been awake, but the minutes seemed to stretch on and on when she was by herself, easily getting lost in the swirling confusion of her thoughts. They said most of the physical ailments had been attended to, burns, lacerations, broken bones, that sort of thing, but she hardly felt well. The vague but ever-present, all-encompassing soreness and throbbing head were uncomfortable, of course, but there was more that disturbed her. She had the feeling she was missing something, forgetting something, like leaving a pot to boil. But the murkiness was gone. Even if the pain pulsing behind her eyes was just shy of causing them to water, she could see things much clearer now, literally and figuratively. At the very least, Rachel remembered she'd been awake earlier, though couldn't have said what transpired. That, a different nurse had said, was an improvement from before. An unsettling piece of news, but she appeared to be recovering.

Even if she couldn't quite remember from what, but no one was hard-pressed to tell her more than "unfortunate incident" and "totally normal, don't worry." Surprisingly, she wasn't terribly bothered, but that may have been the effect of the overwhelming tiredness and slightly unfocused head.

"There's someone who'd like to see you." The witch in the purple robes looked familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place her. Rachel assumed she'd been one to treat her earlier.

Believing she knew who the visitor was, she had her doubts about such a statement. Really, she just didn't know what she was going to say.

"All right," she said quietly, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, a man, not who she expected, stood in the doorway. Blinking in quick succession, though regretting the action, her brows tugged together. "Yes?"

The entire day had been absolutely exhausting, even before he had been disturbed at work with the troubling news that his wife and a family friend had been attacked, and were now at Mungo’s recovering. He had gotten a late start to his day, his secretary had knocked over a couple of files – it was just one of those days where he knew nothing was going to go according to plan. He just never banked on things getting this bad, which was a mistake on his part. Maybe if he always anticipated the worst, he wouldn’t be so surprised, so hurt when things like this happened.

What kind of miserable existence he would have if he thought like that, though. He’d forever be expecting bad things to happen, and his neuroticism would eventually drive him crazy. He needed to find the middle ground between being consistently paranoid, and being hopeful that the worst was over and done with. It was just so hard to do, when the bar kept being set higher and higher.

He was tired emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually – however many ways a human being could be exhausted, Donovan was feeling it. He felt hollow, and wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to sleep properly in his own home that night, knowing what had transpired there only hours ago. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep without Danielle laying there beside him, but the healers said they wanted to observe her over night. Maybe that was for the best – at least he knew she was safe there. He’d likely wind up falling asleep in the chair next to her bed, and would wake up with several kinks in his back and neck, but it was the only way he would be able to get any rest at all.

But before he could do that, there was one more thing he needed to do – he needed to see Rachel, the other woman who had been hurt while she was visiting with Danielle, who just so happened to be Gabriel’s wife. He managed to get something of a second wind, gaining enough energy to rise to his feet and approach the nurse’s desk, asking which room she was in. Danielle still wasn’t conscious, but he told the healers to keep him informed if she woke up, so he could be there. Until then, he moved slowly through the hospital corridors until he reached Rachel’s room. A gentle rap was given on the open door, just so she knew someone was in the doorway. He didn’t see Gabriel, from where he was standing, so he had to assume he only had a limited window of opportunity to speak with Rachel while she was alone.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

He barely even recognized his own voice that night. It felt like it took most of his energy, just to produce intelligible words.

WHO: Rachel Corner and Danielle Rookwood
WHAT: Tea time turns into a literal disaster!
WHERE: Rookwood home!
WHEN: This afternoon!
RATING: DM for DARK MAGIC

( The last thing Rachel remembered as her steps faltered and she looked over her shoulder was the slamming cloud of blackness )

Everything had gone off without a hitch.

Danielle wanted to cry for more than their vows, she was just so elated that the ceremony hadn't been interrupted by someone angry at the both of them, anyone who found it wrong for them to be together. It felt like all these months of turmoil and tears had been pointing towards this day, and Danielle was going to love every second of this day.

Her hands rested behind her back as she listened to her father's story about his wedding day. Danielle rocked on her heels with a smile on her face, so happy that she was going to have stories to share with her family, their future children, and anyone else who was willing to listen. The party was small, just their closest friends and family (Rian had come! He'd come!), and it was just what Danielle had always wanted. The wedding was supposed to be about her and Donovan, it had always been Donovan, and to have her fantasy come true was astounding.

And it wasn't even the felix felicis they had given all of their guests as favors, talking.

She was about to comment on how her father seemed to be getting misty eyed when a hand rested on her waist. Danielle turned and smiled brightly at her husband, and excused herself from her family to pay some attention to him.

"Have I told you how handsome you look today?"

It was a quiet morning in the Corner household. Breakfast was made to perfection, their newborn was happily and silently rocking in his cradle, and the older children were peacefully coloring in the playroom. Mornings were often a time of relaxation in the home, because it was before the busy schedules of the day were allowed to take hold of their emotions and stress Rachel or himself. Gabriel sat quite content with his copy of the Daily Prophet, slightly, but comfortably, slouched in a kitchen chair opposite of Rachel's.

He wasn't reading, or at least, not comprehending much. His mind had trailed back to a somewhat strange (and drunken) conversation he'd had his with friends a few nights ago. They were crowing at him about how Rachel had fled the country when he'd told her he loved her (something they had learned about from another drunken experience of his----) and it caused him to think about her return. They had definitely reconciled, reconciled so well that they produced their now one-month year old son...but Gabriel was recalling quite vividly the very large, missing piece of the story.

"Hm," he let out thoughtfully, putting down the paper and staring across the table at Rachel, his chin in his hand, elbow pressed against the wood. Interesting.

Who: Corners
What: Distress
Where: Their house
When: Last night

( “You ought to think it exceedingly lucky you have a nurse for a wife.” )

Ten days of sun, sand, and surf had not been enough to distract Rachel's obsessive mind. She was inclined to lay the blame toward everything but herself, from the less-than-satisfactory weather in Ibiza, to her reluctant, if willing, choice of travel companions. But the truth was, running away hadn't done exactly what it was supposed to do. And for that, Rachel thought, perhaps, she was unable to blame on anyone except herself. For her disarrayed state of mind, however, there was only one person at fault for, and he was somewhere in England.

It might have turned into a real holiday she could enjoy, if it hadn't been for some very disturbing words he'd uttered during their argument—foremost amongst them that he loved her. Even now, so many days later, Rachel was inclined to believe it wasn't true; it couldn't be true! They'd been married less than six months. They'd only known each other in the most basic manner since the end of October! That wasn't enough time to start loving somebody, particularly not somebody as outrageously flawed as herself. But when she'd begun to voice the same thoughts to Gabriel, he'd merely insisted that it was the truth. Regardless of whether or not it was, Rachel found herself being able to think of little else besides it. What if, one day, he decided her voice mattered little in their future decisions? He loved her. What if he let his mother take a place of importance in their lives, allowing her to make decisions and pass judgment that outweighed Rachel's? He loved her. What if he never took an active position in their marriage anyway, and went about doing whatever the first strong female figure told him to do? ( He loved her. )

"Yes, good night---I'll owl you in the morning, Mother."

Half of Gabriel was grateful to send his mother home, but the other half was nearly begging him to allow her to stay. He was in trouble. In deep, absolute trouble that he knew he'd never be able to get out of. He had expected more of his mother, that she was a woman who could keep her mouth shut during social situations like a simple dinner with himself and Rachel's family, but no. The company of Rachel's mother simply had to cause her to discuss how this making-a-baby thing was going. In one of those sly ways, at that.

Gabriel had specifically asked his mother not to ask Rachel about this, for privacy's sake, and also because they were not trying to have children, in reality. Gabriel and Rachel had decided that their two children would be more than sufficient in their lives, and what need was there to add another baby? Of course, Gabriel wasn't as opposed to the idea as Rachel was, but he had accepted the fact and he was quite fine with that. Michael was turning a year old in a few weeks, all he needed was to focus on his son and step-daughter.

But, of course he couldn't let his mother know that they weren't trying. It would devastate her, especially with Rebecca being so very secretive with everything in her life. Gabriel had not seen the harm in letting his mother think that they were still trying, but he fully understood the wrath he was about to face with the one glare Rachel had shot him immediately after his mother had brought the subject up.

Maybe he could just sit down in the library for a bit until she went to sleep. Gabriel thought this would be a good plan, and it would have been, if Rachel wasn't already waiting for him in the library. He frowned.

Gabriel was still very much learning the ways of being a father, and a husband. It wasn't something that you were able to magically do over night, and even though Michael would be a year old come June (so soon! So fast!), there were still aspects of parenting that Gabriel could not fully comprehend. Even though a marriage was thrown on top of learning how to be a father, Gabriel was quite sure that he was doing a relatively decent job at both. It did help greatly that his wife was a very strong minded woman who didn't mind telling Gabriel what to do. He supposed many men would find that frustrating, but Gabriel was more than happy to have Rachel lead the way, as he was very complacent when it came to most matters.

Most matters, yes. One matter, however, that had completely alluded him during their short courtship and few months of marriage. His mother had dropped the not so subtle hints that it would be so nice to experience another grandchild, after the debacle that was Mary's pregnancy with Michael. Gabriel couldn't help but find himself quite bitter about the topic, but not bitter enough to want to punish his parents, or himself, by not having another child. He'd never thought to himself that no, he would not have more children, but it surely was a subject you had to discuss with your wife! And it was a subject that had been distracting him at work. And at lunches with friends. And at quidditch matches, and---

He didn't want this to feel pressured, like he worried that their engagement had been. Even though things had been working out quite nicely for them, Gabriel was sure that---he just wanted this to be their decision, and he wanted to know Rachel's thoughts on the matter.

Gabriel peered into the bedroom that had been devoted to Amissa's time spent at the house, and smiled at Rachel. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard to talk about.